First Sight
by Ashatara
Summary: Sequel to 'Before I Knew You', which is sequel to 'Don't Blink'. Ianto's POV, potential spoilers for s1 and fragments of s2


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Torchwood. You know that.

**A/N:** While I'm not so sure this is all that good enough to be posted, I also feel it at least needs to be out there.

**First Sight**

There was a moment when Ianto Jones first met Captain Jack Harkness where he just froze.

As he watched the other man tackling a Weevil to the ground, memories from long gone college days returned and swamped him. Memories from before Torchwood London had picked him up. Memories which felt like an entire lifetime away. When a different part of him had come out to play. The side he would always call 'the rebel' even if he only had a minor shoplifting offence to prove its existence.

He looked at Jack with trepidation. Torchwood London had given him the name, but never a face to put with it. Everything on the man was archived with the Cardiff branch. He'd heard the rumours and speculations flying around the Torchwood Institute but…seeing him now was a completely different experience.

He wondered if the other man remembered him, if vivid images from their time together still cropped up in _his_ dreams. But as soon as they met eye to eye, Ianto knew the memories were his alone.

"Thanks." He said, leaning against the tree. He didn't know quite what he was thanking him for. Times they had shared? Being forgotten? Or maybe it was just the Weevil. Maybe he shouldn't read into his own words.

"No, thank_you_." Briefly Ianto wondered if he was reading wrong. _Did_ Jack remember after all? A slight flame of hope flared through the haze of his memories, shining through the darkness of Canary Wharf.

"And…you are?" The flame spluttered out.

"Jones. Ianto Jones." It felt weird, finally introducing himself to this man, when they had already shared so much.

"Nice to meet you Jones, Ianto Jones. Captain Jack Harkness." He leaned in to shake his hand.

Ianto felt decidedly odd. First he'd known the man but not the name. Next he'd known the name but not the man. And now he knew both, his emotions were whirling inside. He changed the conversation to the Weevil, trying his best to act as if they'd never met before. When he remembered Jack had been hurt, he reached out to touch his neck with genuine concern before he could stop himself. The man pulled back, avoiding his touch. Ianto's hand dropped to his side. He looked away and changed the topic, diverting attention. Again to the Weevil.

As Jack walked away from him, Weevil slung over his back, Ianto couldn't help but call after him.

"By the way. Love the coat."

The memory of a line about his coffee made him turn up the next day with a mug of it.

It was fair enough that Jack had forgotten Ianto. After all, years had gone by since they'd last seen each other. Ianto had changed since then. Torchwood had done that to him. But since Jack still looked the same as he always had, Ianto hoped the little he knew about him would either bring back memories, or at least, charm him into giving Ianto the job. Or both, if he was lucky.

It was fair to say too, that Ianto had forgotten Jack. Torchwood had replaced his college days. Lisa had replaced Jack. And really, Lisa was the reason he had even come to Cardiff. He knew in the back of his mind…he was probably just hanging onto memories. But he couldn't help but hope. But what for? Lisa or Jack? Lisa. Definitely Lisa. Lisa needed him. _Lisa_ remembered him (it was petty, but true). So he flirted, and baited Jack. For Lisa.

It was only after the pterodactyl, after Jack's pheromones rekindled a fire in his heart, after they had been entirely _too_ close to Ianto caving in and (re)claiming Jack as his, that Ianto realised he was still attracted to the man. There was still _something_. He pulled himself off Jack with some effort and walked away hurriedly, thoroughly shaken. Lisa or Jack? Lisa. It _had_ to be Lisa.

He got the job.

He saved Lisa, kept her alive in the Hub.

He didn't stop flirting with Jack.

A part of him argued it was all part of the pretence. But a part told him he was actually enjoying it. And he knew that deep down, he was.

Eventually, after the cyberwoman – he would _not_ think of her as Lisa, not now - his heart belonged once more to Jack. Whether the older man knew it or not. With him around, Ianto began to loosen up, the snarky college rebel shining through the Canary Wharf survivor and his layers of protection. He had nothing left to hide from Jack when he felt Jack knew him so well already. They slipped into intimacy with ease.

By then, Ianto had worked it out. He knew Jack had lived a long time. He knew he was a time traveller. He knew he was immortal. Which, now that he thought about it, put an interesting twist on the first time Ianto had approached him all those years ago. He thought back over the conversation.

"_You…remind me of a friend."_

"_Bad thing?"_

"_I'd give anything to have him in my arms again."_

"_What's the story?"_

"…_dead."_

When he made the connection, Ianto gasped aloud. Jack turned to look at him curiously. They were the only two in the Hub. Owen was with Diane. Gwen was with Emma. Tosh had found Jack in tears and offered to take care of John's body and Ianto's car.

"Ianto…?"

Ianto blinked. "Nothing. Time travel's a bitch."

Jack gave a short laugh. Of all the things Ianto could have said…he hadn't been expecting that one.

"It's difficult, yes…leaving everyone, everything you knew. But if you settle, then you find other people. You find other things. You see things you wouldn't have seen, do things you wouldn't have done, love people you wouldn't have loved if you'd just stayed put. And in the end, you'd have it no other way."

Ianto smiled back at him. "It sounds like you've said that before. Is it a rehearsed speech or something?" he teased gently.

Jack just smiled.

"I was thinking…what happens when we're all gone?" _When I'm gone._ "Do you just carry on? Be Torchwood Three forever? Will you ever get back out there, amongst the stars?"

Jack's eyes hardened and yet a softer echo drifted across the depths of the blue orbs. "The Earth without you, Ianto Jones, would not be the place for me. Not sure what I'll do about this coffee addiction though." He tried for a laugh, but it came out weak, slightly feeble. "Why the sudden morbid streak?"

Ianto paused. "I just want you to know…when we're all gone – Owen, Toshiko, Gwen, myself – you should move on. If it's 'death by Torchwood'…if we're killed on a mission, if we die saving the world…don't blame yourself. It's the way we'll have wanted to go. You've shown us so much Jack, and _we'd_ have it no other way. When we're gone…all we'd want is for you to be happy. I want you to remember that."

Jack pulled Ianto into a tight embrace. If he had his way, he'd never let go. He'd hold onto Ianto until the end of time and he'd _never_ let go. Jack's eyes were misted over with tears that would not fall.

"I don't know what brought this on Ianto, but I have no intention of letting you die so young. _Any_ of you."

"We work for Torchwood, Jack. Dying young is practically a given. It just means we live life all the more while we have it."

He kissed Jack.

So the first time, Ianto knew, happened for Jack after Ianto was dead. And possibly while Jack had yet to find another partner. But the others? Those days when he'd decided to skip lectures, those nights he would wander and always, always would find himself at that same bar because a tingling sensation, an _instinct_, had led him there? And on each occasion, the same man, waiting at the same table as if they had planned to meet up? Ianto didn't know. But he took an educated guess and surmised that they had all happened _after_ the first time, anyway.

The visits had stopped the day Ianto first started at Torchwood London. There was nothing. No details, no explanations, no goodbyes. But then, that had always been them. No details. It ruined the magic of it, he supposed.

He hadn't known why back then. He'd been hurt. He'd spent a few sleepless nights worrying over a nameless man in a bar. There had been tears. Admissions that _maybe_ there could have been more to that relationship. But Ianto Jones had grown up and moved on. Because what else could you do when you worked for Torchwood? At least now, he had a better idea of why the visits had stopped.

He'd been stuck with the knowledge until the next time he saw Lisa. And - curse his fickle heart - he'd gone and listened to her, even when he'd _known_ it hadn't been her, and _known_ that he well and truly loved Jack. And the rift had opened. And Abaddon the Great Devourer had been released. And Jack had died. And for three days, Ianto had barely eaten or slept. And Jack had come back. And they'd shared something. And Jack had disappeared again.

Months followed. Or perhaps it was only weeks. Time was immaterial to Ianto when all he got from it was the eternal darkness with no definable end in sight.

He slipped into old habits. He didn't care about much anymore. The pain he had felt after losing Lisa was back, and somehow he was _grieving_ for Jack. The nights when he dropped into sleep were often cut short when Ianto woke in a cold sweat, turned the lights back on and tried to drive away the insane mental images of Jack in pain, Jack being tortured, Jack dying. Ianto knew it was just his own fears playing through his dreams, but he didn't half wish his dreams weren't so vivid.

Gwen and Tosh tried to keep him fed. He'd appreciated the gesture, really, but he just…wasn't hungry. Not when he didn't know where or when Jack was, or when they'd meet again. For all Ianto knew, Jack could have disappeared forever. Or had an accident and was never coming back. Slipped into a parallel universe, captured and enslaved, trapped on a desert planet…any number of fates that could have befallen Jack. Especially when Jack had left no details.

Ianto's mood darkened considerably until Owen finally said enough was enough and made him take medical leave because he was psychologically unsuited to being out in the field with the team. He took his leave indifferently and moped around his apartment in his pyjamas instead of around the Hub in his suits. The girls were too busy with two team members down to make sure he ate properly.

He finally came to the conclusion that since it was Jack, was _all_ Jack, all the time, he'd have to do something about it. Hold on, or let go. And so, he did a little hunting and came up with an old box, long forgotten since Torchwood had first recruited him to their ranks. The box contained books, mainly. Old textbooks, books of poetry, novels from his days as a literature student. Nothing important, just a past chapter of his life. But the reason Ianto took it out now, was for the photo. The _only_ photo of them, back then. He found it wedged between two books and dusted it off. Smiling up at him was his younger self, arm around the waist of that mysterious stranger.

"Oh Jack…" he murmured. Ianto, looking back at himself in the photo, knew that even then, even with no name, no story, no details he had loved Jack. He sighed, and then noticed a yellowing envelope poking out from between the pages of 'The Songs and Sonnets of John Donne'.

He put the photo on the floor and picked up the book, opening it slowly to the place the envelope marked, as if in a trance. 'The Dream'. He read the poem and smiled.

And then he noticed the envelope was addressed to him.

And then he noticed it was still unopened.

And _then_ he noticed it was in Jack's handwriting.

_Ianto,_ the letter began.

_Time does go by like water under a bridge, doesn't it? So much happens in the blink of an eye. I hope, by the time you get this, you'll realise why I can't visit anymore. You have my congratulations though. Torchwood is the next step of your life. Regrettably one I cannot be there for._

_Actually, I hope that the when you get this will be far after that. I set a timelock, but those things can be faulty when the Rift comes in to play. If I'm right, then you will have already guessed. It's Jack. And if I'm right again, then at this moment, I'm not there with you. I left without any explanation. And if I'm right, then this probably hit you worse, because you know it's the second time I've done so._

_And now you're right. This is _not_ the Jack of your time. This is me, the man you met for the first time (for you) all those years ago. Older, much older. And needing some kind of closure._

_I love you. I really do. And so, you won't see me (this older me) for the rest of your life. Because it's unfair of me to do that to you. To use you like a lifebuoy. That day before you started at Torchwood…that's the last day. I don't know what is ahead in _my_ future, so maybe that isn't quite a guarantee, but I feel now, that I can survive on your love, that it can hold me through the life I have ahead of me. That I can honour your wish and live again, not for the past, not for the future, but for the pure sake of living._

_It has been so strange, knowing you and yet not. Loving a future version of you, and you at the same time. But then, I suppose you went (or rather, are going) through the same yourself. And I know all the secrets I keep about me drive you insane. I know you're about to give up on me ever returning to you. But I _will_ be there. The time I spend away from you is not my best, it never is, or was. But Ianto, I _will _be there. And we _will_ be all that you hope for us. You can trust me on that._

_Have you heard the phrase 'you are the light of my life'? Of course you have. As cheesy as it is, it's true. Without you, there was nothing. An abyss. - Don't roll your eyes. Don't say 'spare me the cliché'. Yes, I know you are. No, the paper isn't psychic. I just know you. Where was I? – It's you who brought meaning to my life, woke me from the continual nothing I was living. Showed me how to live again, how to dream. You showed me what love was, after I had lost it all. You told me to keep living. You knew me so well._

_You taught me to live through the bad as well as the good, the darkness and the light, for without one, there is no other. You taught me the sun would always rise (except that once when it didn't). You taught me not to regret, because when all is said and done, we'd have it no other way._

_You made me promise to remember that. And now I'll make you a promise. For as long as I shall live, you will be there with me. I will carry your name and all the memories we shared to the end of my time. You will be there with me, through my waking moments, through my sleep, through my death. I will love you, for as long as I can love._

_Yours forever,_

_Jack_


End file.
